


(tell me i'm your) national anthem

by light_loves_the_dark



Series: the last great american dynasty [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Delores is a BAMF, F/M, Five is JFK, Five is an Important Man, Five is the President, Heavily Inspired by Lana del Rey, I wouldn't say Dark!Five, Implied Murder, Marilyn Monroe and JFK AU, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Problematic Fic Does Problematic Things, Pseudo-Incest, Seriously listen to Vanya's Dialogue and Body Language, Twitter, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vanya is Marilyn, but he's not great, possessive Five, thanks a lot, who is responsible for 90 percent of my kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/light_loves_the_dark/pseuds/light_loves_the_dark
Summary: “Mr. President, Vanya Hargreeves!”Vanya steps up to the mic. Five wonders what she’ll play for him - the Vivaldi, or perhaps the Brahms.He’s the most important man in the world. And of all the land and territory and people he lays claim to, she is surely what he covets most. The most beautiful thing in his possession, the one person grounding him to the earth. If there is one truth in this universe, it is not mathematical or philosophical in nature: it is that she is his. She always has been, and she always will be.-aka the one where five is the president and vanya is his very talented, famous sister. it's gonna go much in the way that you think.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: the last great american dynasty [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974304
Comments: 57
Kudos: 229





	(tell me i'm your) national anthem

**Author's Note:**

> "ya know what's the most surprising thing about all the fiveya fanfics? there's a shiton of AUs and kinky shit but there isn't a single one where Five has the weird JFK birthday thing because I can totally see Vanya just innocently saying happy birthday to him on the siblings birthday and Five's weird kinky mind just go: for the love of god, sing happy birthday, I'm an important man." - an anon on tumblr
> 
> HI ANON so this wasn't sent to me but i'm doing it, and taking it much MUCH further lmao. 
> 
> also wrote this bc the fiveya fandom was so sweet on my last fic? not sure if this one is better, but it is longer, and it's for everyone who commented on 'the lost myth of true love'. 
> 
> (also i spent 0 minutes finding out what people's actual twitter handles are so sorry about that!)

There are only three people allowed to interrupt Five Hargreeves when he’s working. Unbending from his position over his papers, he tilts his head to listen to the echoing _click click_ of heels on the marble outside his office; unless one of them has decided to cross-dress, that narrows it down to two. 

Considering he’s nearly late for a social event, there’s really only one person it could be. 

“I’ve always loved those colors on you.” 

Five is validated when Delores strides into the room, natural and confident in six inch heels. Her deep red dress is modest and flattering, her signature red lips smirking at him. She prides herself on perfection - Five is sure that any photograph of her, candid or otherwise, could double as a magazine cover. She knows it too - loves being unattainably gorgeous as much as she loves glamorous parties.  
  
Five hates parties. He likes when things are what they seem, and often says so. He supposes that’s why they make such a good team. 

“Red and navy?” he grumbles, standing and rounding the desk to meet her next to the couch in the middle of the room. “If I wanted to be reminded of home, I’d go there.” 

“I saw your itinerary for New York,” she mentions, circling him to look for imperfections. “Next weekend?”

Five shrugs, leaning back against his desk. “I have a meeting.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And thought you might catch a concert?” She suggests lightly. 

He gives her a hard stare. She knows all his buttons, but that doesn’t mean he likes when she pushes them. “It’s been a long week,” he says finally. Only after a long week, does he allow himself his fix. 

Delores hums as she straightens his collar. 

His wife knows who he is. She knows what she signed up for. A few more months and she disappears from his life with a nice, fat check and a huge, designer-laden wardrobe. She doesn’t need it - she’s a trust fund baby herself, but she deserves it. 

“Hazel will be there,” she mentions off-handedly as she looks him over with a shrewd eye.

“He’s the Vice President,” Five deadpans. “Just like me, he has to be there.”

“It’s your birthday,” she cajoles, “a celebration!” She pats his chest lightly; if she thinks he doesn’t notice the way she corrects his pocket square, she’s wrong. “And you have to go because that’s where your present is.” 

“And what’s that?” He asks, stepping half a foot back. She gets the message, allowing her hand to drop. 

“New diamond cufflinks,” she says, nodding in approval and enabling them to finally start for the door. “And my superb distraction skills for when you need to make a hasty exit in the middle of the dessert portion of the evening.”

“Your gift is that I can leave early?” He scoffs. “You’re slipping, dear.” He holds the door open for her, nodding vaguely as several members of his staff pass them. Now begins the deception, the thing that Five loves and loathes in equal measure. 

Delores shrugs almost imperceptibly as she bids his receptionist goodbye with a small wave. Five can hardly stand the perky young man, but he at least does his job. “Well, it makes sense when you consider Hazel’s gift.” 

Five resists the urge to look over at her. He refuses to give in to her teasing. Not after this week. Not on his birthday. “A gift that will remain unexplained, is that right?” 

Delores giggles as they leave the West Wing, finally wrapping her arm around his as more people flood into view. “Oh husband, for better or for worse, not a day goes by that I’m not reminded that you’re the smartest man in the world.” 

-

When eccentric billionaire Reginald Hargreeves finds nothing unique about the seven children he had bought from across the world, he sets out to make them unique. And succeeds. Mostly. 

Number Three is his favorite growing up, her easy, charismatic charm bleeding through from an early age. Five is close behind, a verified genius. If his wit hadn’t been quite so caustic, he could’ve easily stolen the top spot. Number Six falls in next, an avid reader matching Five’s genius, but in arts and languages. Numbers One and Two, competitive and idiotic, vie for fourth place, both chasing more physical pursuits.

Then comes the two black sheep: Numbers Four and Seven. Four, because he turns to drugs and sex to deal with their father’s machinations. Seven, because she prefers following the others around instead of engaging in her own pursuits. And if there is one thing by which their father cannot abide, it is a follower. 

But she is kind, and sweet, and she listens. Seven - Vanya - thereby quickly becomes his favorite growing up. She allows him to see beneath her timid exterior to the clever young woman who delights in teasing him. The pretty ingenue who loves her violin and her siblings and the world, though it is more than cruel to her. It is him who encourages her, pushes her, holds her in the darkest hours of morning as she sobs under the weight of their father’s hatred. 

It is him who watches with glee as little, timid Number Seven rises to the top of the music world after college, a master of nearly every string instrument, with a soft, sensual voice that she only pulls out for special occasions. Their father is stunned, and like the good daughter she is, Vanya quietly allows him to take credit for her genius, despite Five’s protests. She begins to play in orchestras around the world, composes Oscar-winning scores, and eventually settles into a freelance position at Juilliard that allows her to travel for performances. By all rights, she should be the most famous of the Hargreeves, surpassing even Allison, the A-list actress. 

But Five exists. And he isn’t about to be outdone, even by his favorite person in the world. 

Lawyer. Senator. President. It’s an easy enough formula, and Five has always been good at following a formula. The Hargreeves are old money, ancient, and Five is a strong, smart, handsome, white man.

And so he rises to the top, to the place where the power he wields overcomes everything, even money. But power is not the only thing Five craves. 

-

Hazel greets Dolores and Five as they enter the White House’s largest ballroom. It’s his birthday dinner, so he gets to enjoy the happy side effect of a lack of duties. He does not need to greet anyone here - for all ostensible purposes, he’s off the clock. 

The President is never off the clock, not really, but the lack of official responsibilities does take the sting away. 

The Vice President grins widely at Five and his wife, approaching with such gusto that it warns off everyone in the vicinity. Five grants him a small smile in thanks. “You’re welcome, old man!” Hazel exclaims without context, slapping him hard on the back. Hazel is the All-American, jovial spirit to his shrewd businessman-like countenance. By all rights, their positions should be reversed. But Five is stubborn and clever, and more importantly, he can turn on his charm like a faucet. Still, it helps their position in the polls that his VP could easily win a role playing Santa Claus during the holiday.

Hazel leads them to their table. It sits before a small stage, right in the center of the room. Scanning the table’s occupants, Five grits his teeth. The people already seated are either his closest confidants - Hazel, Agnes, Delores - or complete idiots - everyone else - so he doesn’t bother to put on airs. 

“Oh Mr. President, you must be so excited!” One older woman crows. Five has seen her multiple times before, but all that’s important about her is that she bought her way to his table. And three months from now, he will no longer be beholden to her kind. 

So he bares his teeth in what might pass as a smile, but Five knows it’s probably more of a sneer. “Oh yes, don’t we all love to be reminded that we’ve spent another year on this planet?” He says, not bothering to make true eye contact, and from the woman’s full-teeth, absent grin, she has somehow taken his response literally. 

Agnes, who embodies the rare combination of clever and kind, laughs softly; she’s always seen the best in him, in them all, but somehow it doesn’t irritate him. “Mrs. Walden, I believe, is referring to tonight’s programming,” she cuts in. 

Hazel gives his wife a fond, exasperated look. “I thought we’d agreed on waiting for her to come out?” He half-whines, and Five has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t openly roll his eyes. 

Agnes tutts. “Oh, but anticipation is the best part!” She turns to Five. “Tell me, how long has it been since you’ve seen your sister?”

Five keeps his expression even, though his stomach jolts. “I have two sisters, Mrs. Vice President,” he reminds her. A normal brother would remember he has two sisters. A normal brother would ask for clarification, but he’s not normal. The images that fill his mind, cause him to tense, are not of Allison.

Agnes gives him a knowing look. “Vanya, Mr. President.”

Five pretends to think. “A few months, I suppose?”

Three weeks. Five days. Six hours. Give or take. 

It had been a cloudy day in New York City; he had taken Vanya for a long walk down Fifth Avenue, much to the chagrin of the Secret Service. She had tucked her tiny hand in his arm, dressed in a breezy silk, blue blouse and white slacks, something his stylist had picked out just for this moment. She had recently started a nonprofit to bring music classes to inner city kids, and he was happy to make an appearance if it meant spending the afternoon with her. He remembers bending to whisper something sultry in her ear, a moment both for them and for Page Six, which they had been splashed across the next day. The headline had read something average: President Volunteers with Violinist Sister, or the like. But he hadn’t been able to stop staring at the way he looked down at her. For once, he’s grateful for the idiots in this country; a child with half a lick of sense would know that’s not the way a brother looks at his sister. 

Father had called them both the next day. He doesn’t know if Vanya had answered, but he sure as hell didn’t. 

Noticing his lack of attention to the conversation, Delores jumps in. “He tries to see her concerts when he can,” she explains to the table, a fond smile on her face. “Vanya is lovely, just lovely. And so talented. My husband loves his siblings, but I suspect she is his favorite.”

Five smirks, but his knuckles turn white where they are gripping his armrest. There are few moments where his fondness for his wife turns sour, but any time she mentions Vanya is one of them. “You’ve always been astute, dear,” he drawls, he sits back in the chair, but his eyes are scanning the room. She’s here? Hazel has brought her here?

He owes the man a good bottle of whiskey. 

“So,” he prompts, cutting off his wife’s attempts to describe his and Vanya’s relationship, “you invited her? There are no more seats at our table.” 

She has to be seated with him; he’ll make sure of it, even if he has to kick one of these idiots out. He’s the President - it’s not hard to have someone unexpectedly detained on the trip to the bathroom. Hell, he’d have any one of these people arrested for terrorism if it meant Vanya could be sitting next to him right now. Having her here, but not by his side, would be worse than if she was not here at all. 

Hazel chuckles. “Oh no, my friend - you see, I’ve missed dear Vanya’s concerts too. So I asked her to come and play for us.” 

He signals the stage, and the lights of the room fade.

The shock momentarily stops Five’s heart, but he’s nothing if not adaptable, forcing his body to relax after two seconds of discomfort. If anyone was observant, they would notice how invested he now is in the stage, which is currently being occupied by some T.V. host whose name he does not know. 

Sure enough, five minutes later, Vanya scurries onto the stage when the announcer calls her the second time, all gentle smiles and dark lined eyes as she carries her violin loosely in one hand. He drinks her in like he hasn’t seen her in years; every time he lets her out of his arms, it seems she is gone longer and longer, and he has to catalogue her all over again. Not that it’s a hardship; Five could stare at her for hours; her every movement captivates him, her every expression is a puzzle for him to take apart. 

Oh god, he wants to take her apart. 

Her hair is straight and thick, tumbling over her back and shoulders. As always, she dresses in a sharp suit in lieu of a dress, brilliant, pure white to match her lacy white Louboutins. She’s wearing a diamond necklace he bought her years ago around her neck, the stone itself dipping low between her small breasts. She doesn’t look like she’s wearing any kind of shirt underneath the jacket, and his fingers clench around his armrests. He knows he is staring openly. He also knows the rest of the room is as well, so it doesn’t matter. 

Delores clutches his right arm with her red nails, and he is grateful for the distraction. “It looks like your brother dressed her,” she mumbles underneath her breath, all through a clean, white smile. She doesn’t need to clarify to which brother she’s referring. 

Five bows his head and smiles, as if sharing a private joke with his wife, but they both know that his eyes never leave his sister. “Remind me to thank Klaus,” he murmurs back, wrapping an arm around the back of her chair. 

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m honest,” he corrects. Delores grins at him with red lips, and he doesn’t feel guilty when he automatically draws the parallel between her bold look and Vanya’s soft, nude one. He infinitely prefers the latter.

“Mr. President, the _late_ Vanya Hargreeves!”

Vanya steps up to the mic. He wonders what she’ll play for him - the Vivaldi, or perhaps the Brahms. He hasn’t heard her play in several weeks; excepting the last week, his work has been child’s play as his term comes to a close, and he hasn’t had any need to send for her to relax him. Still, it’s a much missed treat, and he pulls his arm from Delores to settle back against his chair. 

He’s the most important man in the world. And of all the land and territory and people he lays claim to, she is surely what he covets most. The most beautiful thing in his possession, his sole possession. If there is one truth in this universe, it is not mathematical or philosophical in nature: it is that she is _his_. She always has been, and she always will be. 

She surprises him by setting the violin on the stand, raising her hands to hover above her eyes, blocking out the bright, white lights. The room settles as her eyes scan the crowd. He sits up straight, smirking when her eyes meet his. She grins then, a blinding flash of white. She looks so innocent, so youthful, like all those years ago, and he feels his heart stir along with his loins. 

She begins awkwardly for someone who is used to the stage. He would chalk it up to his own presence in the audience, but he knows that isn’t the case. He comes to her concerts so often that the Secret Service have given his sister her own protection, almost equal to that of his wife. There had been one near kidnapping incident, a memory that makes Five want to kill the men that had been involved all over again. After that scare, Vanya had been carefully and quickly subsumed into his security. 

“Most of you know me as a violinist,” she murmurs into the microphone, voice airy and hesitant. “But it’s my birthday too, and I hope no one would begrudge me my wish to sing Happy Birthday to my brother.”

Ah, she’s singing. That’s the root of her nerves, and it’s the cause of his too. His heart thumps hard in his chest, and he swallows hard. 

She shoots a nervous curve of her lips into the audience. He leans forward, dark eyes pinned on her tiny frame swathed in light. Heat is already rising in his cheeks, and he’s thankful that they’ve allowed only minimal cameras and reporters into the ballroom. 

When she starts to sing, he stops breathing. 

Her voice is light, sensual, delicate. It’s not technically perfect, but she still sounds like a goddess. Five spares a mental scoff at the thought: like their father would have allowed her many musical lessons to amount to anything else. Her hands come up to hover at her ribs, clenching and releasing as she sings to him, not taking her gaze off him although he's certain she can’t really see beyond the bright lights and into the darkness around him. When she breathes out his title, his pants tighten almost unbearably, and Delores’ nails gripping his arm is the only thing tethering him to reality. 

She finishes the song with a seductive curl of her lips, drawing out the last note as long as she can before the temptress facade drops and she grins at the crowd. “Everybody!” She encourages, nodding to the orchestra behind her as she lifts her violin.

The rest of the room is spurred into action as they stand and sing, the spell that Vanya had cast over them breaking like glass. The staff brings a giant, white cake to his table, but Five can’t stop staring at his sister, who is smiling over her violin. It looks genuine, like she’s happy to be up there, performing. The spell she has over him hasn’t broken. It hasn’t broken since they were children; he’s been her willing victim for decades. 

She waves to the crowd once the song is over, leaving the stage. Five manages to sit through half a piece of cake before he excuses himself, Delores and Hazel staring after him knowingly. 

He finds her in the private bathroom that doubles as a dressing room, striding in with purpose, only pausing to kick the door closed behind him. He doesn’t spare a thought for the three Secret Service agents about to get an earful; they’ve known about his proclivities for years now. During his first term, Vanya and Delores had both urged him to be careful, and he had reluctantly followed their advice. Now, he doesn’t give a shit. 

Vanya spins around from where she is pulling off her heels, gaping at him. “Five, your party-”

“Fuck them,” he snarls, taking her in his arms and letting his forward momentum carry them to slam into the wall. He’s not inconsiderate; he cups the back of her head so she doesn’t bang it against the wall, but he’s too desperate for her to go any slower. “Let me - let me,” he murmurs, dipping to kiss her hard. 

“Let you what?” she replies against his lips. 

“If you don’t take off your pants right now, you won’t leave here in pants,” he warns, tugging on her hair hard to bring her closer to him as he unbuttons her suit with the other hand. 

Vanya is no pushover, and she loves her beautiful suits, so she pushes him back with a firm shove and slips out of her pants. Five takes the opportunity to remove his own, giving her ten seconds to undress as much as she can before he presses her back against the wall. 

“Five,” she moans as he presses biting kisses down her neck, leaving a trail of redness and saliva until he reaches her breasts, and _fuck_ , she hadn’t been wearing anything under that jacket. He unbuttons the blazer, tugging it down around her elbows, pinning her arms by her side. 

“Ah-ah,” he replies, pausing over her right breast as he rolls his hips against hers hard and fast. She squirms against him, straining forward.   
  
“Five!” She repeats, begging, and any other moment he would fold, but he wants something here, needs something, and she’s going to give it to him. 

“You called me something else, earlier,” he prompts, sliding his right hand into her lacy underwear. His other hand tilts her chin up so he can watch her expression - the way she has to tilt her head back to meet his eyes satisfies some primal, possessive beast in him. She’s helpless before him, and she knows it. It’s only fair; after all, she’s the only person with whom he is vulnerable. “If you want my fingers inside you,” he continues, wetting his lips with his tongue, “you’ll do exactly as I say.” 

Vanya pants. Pauses. Thinks. Smiles slowly.

“Fuck me, _Mr. President,_ ” she sing-songs, and he loses it. 

-

Afterward, there’s a process. They’ve done this very thing so many times: sneaking off, pressing against walls, spending too brief a percentage of his lifetime as close as two people can get. 

This time is different. It’s time to talk about their future, mere months away. He’s not sure why he’s put it off this long, but having her on stage before him, knowing her attention is on him, only him, encourages him to speak. “It won’t be like this forever,” he warns her. 

Vanya smiles as she straightens his collar, her lipstick reapplied and her hair fixed. “Of course,” she agrees evenly. 

“I mean it, V,” he insists, hands coming up and circling her wrists. He applies pressure until she releases his shirt and looks up at him, her smile melting into a furrowed brow. “Close your eyes.”

“Five…”

 _“Now._ ” 

She does, awaiting further instructions. He moves, turning her and pulling her back against his chest. “I want you to imagine it,” he whispers, low in her ear, and she shivers. “Less than four months. I divorce my wife. I move out of this ugly white monstrosity. The reporters are scurrying across the front lawn like the ants they are. Are you picturing it?”

“Mmhm,” Vanya nods.

“They say: ‘Oh, President Hargreeves, Mr. President!’” He pitches his voice high and reedy, gratified by Vanya’s little giggles. “‘What will you do next?’ They hang there, waiting. And I say: ‘my sister.’”

“What?”

“Yes, that’s it - they say ‘What? Oh we’re sorry, President Hargreeves, we misheard you.’ ‘No, you didn’t,’ I say. ‘I’m going to go fuck my sister.’”

“Five!” She spins in his arms, gazing up at him with wide eyes. He keeps his arms tight around her. 

“And then I board Reggie’s private jet, ignore all his calls, show up at your doorstep in the Upper East Side, and beg you to let in a homeless man.”

“And then you fuck me?” She asks innocently. 

He nods. “And then I fuck you.” 

Vanya gives him a hungry look. In one, brief, glorious moment, it looks like what he describes is all she’s ever wanted. The thought builds a second heat in him, his mind quickly calculating how fast he would need to bend her over the sink in order for them to return to the ballroom in a reasonable amount of time. He is preparing to back her up and spin her around when her expression melts into a sad smile, and a sliver of ice shoots up his spine. “Five, that’s quite a dream,” she says, a sort of dead acceptance in the upturn of her lips. 

Five frowns, feeling suddenly off balance. It’s a rare enough feeling that he actually has to spend time thinking before he replies, and the pause hangs awkwardly between them. “I-” He tries, but Vanya isn’t finished. 

“I mean, can you imagine what that would look like? What would everyone say? We’d have to go into hiding,” she jokes, an artificial lightness to her that he hates. She’s never put on airs with him before, just like he’s never lied to her. They’re not allowed to lie to each other. 

The listlessness in him changes into urgency, and he pulls her close, all thoughts of fucking her vanishing. “Who cares?” He demands. He knows he must look wild, judging from the shock in her expression, but he can’t stop. He imagines Vanya, him, a secluded cabin somewhere near water because Vanya loves to listen to the vibrations of the waves. It’d be stuffed full of books, a music room for her, a study for him. He wants to lie down with her every night and wake up with her every morning. He just _wants_ in a way he hasn’t since his first election, and it’s glorious. 

Vanya has always known him better than anyone else, the way he knows her, and he can tell she knows what he’s thinking. And in true Vanya fashion, she’s panicking. “You’re not serious, Five,” she says finally, weakly, clutching onto his arms. 

He leans forward, brushing his lips over her hairline. “Aren’t I?” He murmurs. He loves how tiny she is compared to him, how precious. He likes how she fits into his chest when he holds her. “When have I ever been less than serious, than honest, with you? You’re the only one who gets that from me, Vanya. We’ve sampled everything they could offer us. Don’t you want to stop living half a life?”

She shakes her head beneath his lips, hard and stubborn. He stiffens in return, realizing that this is no passing panic. “I’m not living half a life,” she argues. 

Five grips her harder. Doesn’t she yearn for him every night the way he does her? Doesn’t she miss him every day? He knows she must. She _must_ . “What do you need but me?” He retorts. “I can provide for you, hold you, _listen_ to you. You don’t need anyone else’s approval but mine.” 

“I like my life, Five,” she says, pushing away. “People depend on me.” Her mouth is set in a thin, stubborn line; he wants to ruin it with his own mouth, wants her to forget everything but him. 

He follows her as she sits on the edge of the couch, reaching down to strap on her shoes. Her fingers are trembling so hard that she misses the buckle twice. He kneels in front of her, circling her pale ankles with his thumbs and middle fingers, keeping her in place. “ _I_ depend on you,” he replies, pushing down the desperation climbing up his spine. “ _I_ need you.”

Vanya sighs, reaching down and dropping her forehead against his. She cards her fingers through his dark, uncoiffed hair. “And we’re working through that,” she agrees, soothing. “I can’t leave you, Five. You’ll always have me.” 

He wants to shout at her. He doesn’t want a consolation prize; he doesn’t want her compromises. He wants what he’s due, what they’ve both been anticipating for years. 

Instead, he presses his lips together, trying to keep his temper at bay. This should have been easy. Vanya is the only thing in his life that he never had to earn. She’s already here, dressed for _him_ , in the things _he_ has gifted her, after singing to _him_ in the most sexy way possible in a room full of meaningless people. She’s supposed to be easy, seamless, perfect. She’s supposed to be the only thing that makes sense. 

“In hotels and shadowy corners?” He replies, disbelieving. He stands, pulling her to her feet as well. That’s not the life with you I want.”

She squeezes his hands, and the look in her eyes is the worst kind of apologetic. “You can’t have everything,” she tells him, like he’s a child learning how to share for the first time. 

He scoffs at her. That lesson hadn’t worked with his many tutors, and it’s not going to work now. “Yes, I can.” 

She steps back from him, dropping her gaze as their hands fall apart. “I - we should get back there. You’ll be missed.” She adjusts her suit jacket, running her fingers down the diamond pendant around her neck. She keeps her gaze on the floor as she makes for the door of the dressing room. 

His strides are longer than hers, and his palm comes down hard on the wood before she can open it. “Vanya-” he tries. He knows she’s afraid, but she has to know they belong together. After the hell that was their childhood, they deserve each other. He deserves to get the girl. “We’ve paid our dues to Father, not that we ever owed that asshole anything. We can be happy…”

Vanya spins, finally meeting his gaze. There are tears in her eyes. “Don’t make this about him. We could’ve run away together, all those years ago. I _begged_ you to run - to find some tiny town where no one would know what we are to each other. Somewhere we could be free. But you wanted to go to MIT. You wanted to become a Senator, and you wanted to be the most powerful man in the room.”

Five scoffs. “And what about your education? Your degrees? Your career?”

Vanya shakes her head, crying in earnest. “I did it all for you,” she chokes out. “I could’ve been happy with a second-hand violin and you, Five, but you pushed me because God forbid the woman on your arm was anything less than the best!”

He grabs her then, tightly by the forearms, trying to resist the impulse to shake her. “I loved you before any of that, Seven,” he hisses. 

She yanks herself away, trembling. “I know you did,” she breathes, like it’s a concession she never wanted to make. “But I wasn’t enough...” 

“Bullshit, Vanya, you’ve always known that you’re it for me. You’re just scared-” 

“No, stop, Five!” she whispers furiously. “Just stop. This is who I am, and my music is everything to me. Don’t you dare take that away from me.”

She pulls open the door before he can follow, taking off down the hallway. He murmurs a curse before he exits as well, slamming the door behind him. One of his men looks up, awaiting orders.

“Follow her,” he says tiredly. “But keep your distance.” 

The man nods and takes off, and Five starts back to the party, straightening his tie. There is a mess of emotion roiling inside him, a mess caused by the one person who is supposed to always inspire goodness in him. How dare Vanya accuse him of _wanting_ any of this? Sure, the power is nice, and he loves bending the world around him to his will, but with it comes the stacks of paperwork and the mindless drones of Congress and the wife he can’t love. He loves lying and manipulating, but he’s tired of being lied to and manipulated. He’s older, now. Wealthy and successful behind imagination. 

And for all his wealth, for all his success, love is out of reach. Vanya is out of reach, and worse, she’s not even trying to bridge the gap between them. 

He stops outside the door of the ballroom for an instant, listening as the Secret Service stops behind him. “Have you found Miss Hargreeves?”

His men are the best, so of course they anticipated this question. He’s asked it many times before. “Yes, Mr. President,” one responds promptly. “She has asked to be taken home.” The man pauses, and Five cocks his head. The uncertainty is palpable. “Should we have her brought to your wing instead, Sir?”

Five smirks to himself, facing away from his security team. “No, put her on the train back to New York, if she so wishes.”

He tunes his men out as they relay his instructions, reentering the ballroom to a rapturous applause. There, he thinks. He can be gracious. 

He’ll give her these few months. To play in front of millions, to teach her little pupils, to bask in the world’s accolades. 

After that, whatever it takes, she’ll be _his_. 

-

_January 20th, 2029 - 8:37 a.m._

**@CNN:**

Sources in the White House tell us @F_Hargreeves will be transitioning out at 10 a.m. We will be meeting with him to discuss his next steps - a topic about which he has been very private. 

**@TheWhiteHouse:**

@CNN @F_Hargreeves is looking forward to sharing his thoughts with the American public. 

_January 20th, 2029 - 10:14 a.m._

**@NYTimes:**

BREAKING NEWS: @F_Hargreeves has admitted to incestual thoughts about his sister @V_Hargreeves. Updates to come. 

**@FoxNews:**

@F_Hargreeves admits he wants to sleep with his sister. We’re looking back on all their public interactions in the past 8 years at 2pm on @Channel5. 

**@CNN:**

We have confirmed that @F_Hargreeves filed for divorce against @Delores_H twelve days ago. Sources say the paperwork went through this morning. Neither is available for comment. 

**@Five_Stan02:**

… so we’re all validated rite? [Image of Five bent low, whispering in Vanya’s ear as they walk through Central Park]

**@Fiveya10101:**

cmon @CNN @NYTimes @FoxNEWS this shit was OBVIOUS. She pulled a Marilyn on him. A MARILYN. [Image of Vanya singing to Five]

**@K_Hargreeves reposts @Fiveya10101.**

@Fiveya10101 HOT DAMN. 

**@Allison_Hargreeves:**

I’m in shock. Our family is in shock. Our fans deserve answers, but please give us some time. 

**@K_Hargreeves:**

@Allison_Hargreeves liar. @F_Hargreeves @V_Hargreeves DM me the address of ur hideout @Ben_Hargreeves and I are out of here. 

**Direct Message from @F_Hargreeves to @K_Hargreeves:**

@F_Hargreeves: Give me a month. 

@K_Hargreeves: bro u guys don’t have to stop sleeping together bc we’re there. plus i KNOW ur house is huge - u two are rich af. 

@F_Hargreeves: Vanya needs time. I know patience is an unfamiliar concept for you, but you either wait or you don’t come at all. 

@K_Hargreeves: wait… did u spring this on her?!?! ofc u did. ben’s gonna kill u. 

@F_Hargreeves: Don’t you dare say a word.

@K_Hargreeves: he’s reading this over my shoulder. hide well, little bro. 

@F_Hargreeves: Fuck you.

_January 21st, 2029 - 9:05 a.m._

**@Juillard:**

Our administration is in talks with @V_Hargreeves. We have heard your concerns, and the positions of our faculty do not reflect the positions of the university. 

**@NYTimes:**

Can @Juillard fire @V_Hargreeves for pseudo-incest? Read our op-ed by @JTThompson, professor of moral law and philosophy at @ColumbiaUniversity. #HargreevesScandal

**@FOXNews:**

@F_Hargreeves has revealed the scandal to end all scandals on his way out. At 5pm, @Rush_Limbaugh discusses how the American people can still hold him accountable. #FiveGate

**@CNN:**

Tonight, @Allison_Hargreeves discusses her siblings on @Stephen_Colbert.

_January 21st, 2029 - 11:05 p.m._

**@Stephen_Colbert:**

@Allison_Hargreeves claims Five and Vanya were always close as kids: “I want them to be happy, but this isn’t the right way.” 

**@DiEGO_Hearts_KNIVES:**

@Allison_Hargreeves @L_Hargreeves you both shut the fuck up. I can’t believe ur making me take Five’s side he’s gonna be such a smug asshole about it.

**@L_Hargreeves:**

I didn’t say anything?

_January 22nd, 2029 - 4:34 p.m_  
  


**@NYTimes:**

@V_Hargreeves has deleted all social media and pulled out from all upcoming performances. Will time make a difference for her career? #HargreevesScandal

_February 1st, 2029 - 10:02 a.m._

**@CNN:**

First lady @DeloresH admits she knew about the affair: “The American people are fickle. My husband outsmarted them and still left the country a better place.” #FiveGate

**@DeloresH:**

I loved being your first lady, but @F_Hargreeves made me who I am today when every other man scoffed at me. Vanya is an angel. If you want to blame someone, look no further than Reggie. 

_February 15th, 2029 - 11:06 a.m._

**@WashingtonPost:**

Breaking News: we’ve exposed years of cover up in the @NYPD and NY Child Services, ignoring proof-laden abuse allegations against Reginald Hargreeves. (1/2)

**@WashingtonPost:**

An outpouring of support has followed our article. Can the American people actually forgive @F_Hargreeves for years of lies? (2/2)

**@Fiveya10101:**

@WashingtonPost Y’ALL HOW MANY MORE TIMES DO WE HAVE TO SAY IT? IT WAS OBVIOUS! #loveislove

**@Jaredistired:**

God save your soul @Fiveya10101 you’re disgusting. They’re BROTHER AND SISTER.

**@Fiveya10101:**

Have you ever heard of adoption and years of systemic abuse @jaredistired? Or Alabama? 

_March 13th, 2029 - 2:44 p.m._

**@FOXNews**

Many Americans are asking whether the FBI is incompetent for being unable to trace @F_Hargreeves. When will justice be served? #FiveGate

**@Hao_Zhou:**

I’m tired. @V_Hargreeves was the best teacher I’ve ever had. Personal choices aside, we now know the Hargreeves sibs were abused. I’m glad they had each other. We love who we love, don’t we? 

**@F_Hargreeves reposts @Hao_Zhou:**

I’ve served my time. Alleviated debt. Instituted national healthcare. Fixed @Donald_Trump’s mess. @Hao_Zhou, Vanya says to enjoy @LincolnCenter.

**@F_Hargreeves:**

I don’t regret her. I never could. 

_March 13th, 2029 - 6:23 p.m._

**@NYTimes:**

Following in his sister’s footsteps, Five Hargreeves has deactivated his Twitter, leaving the American people with more questions than answers. 

_March 20th, 2029 - 9:00 a.m._

**@WashingtonPost:**

As the #HargreevesScandal fades from daily news, we ask one final question: do the American people have a say in POTUS’s personal choices? Legality aside, what do YOU think? 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> lmao just like me to end with a philosophical question. 
> 
> (yeah so there's obviously a lot to unpack here, but i'm not going to push my meta on you guys here - i just really really love exploring five and his mindset, even if he forced vanya into a really bad position here. she built a beautiful life to get over the fact he rejected her in favor of his ambition, and he took that life away from her because he realized that all of his ambition really just left him empty.)
> 
> sorry i can't write a happy fiveya fic? maybe next time lmao send prompts (and follow @queeenpersephone on tumblr if you'd like!)


End file.
